Articles – Fight Like a Girlhttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com
Cancer Support Community: Information, Inspiration, and Stories for Women's EmpowermentThu, 11 Apr 2019 15:57:28 +0000en-US
hourly
1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.2.6Special Carehttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/special-care/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/special-care/#respondTue, 20 Mar 2012 23:24:33 +0000http://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=5961When you have been a cancer patient, doctors are generally a lot more cautious with you. If anything comes back with so much of a sniff of being abormal, everything tends to go into panic mode and no stone is left unturned. That’s how it feels sometimes anyway. I guess this is a good thing, but as …

]]>When you have been a cancer patient, doctors are generally a lot more cautious with you. If anything comes back with so much of a sniff of being abormal, everything tends to go into panic mode and no stone is left unturned. That’s how it feels sometimes anyway.

I guess this is a good thing, but as I have recently found, it can cause weeks and weeks of unnecessary stress and worry.

I am due to give birth to my second baby boy on 8th April, and because one of the chemo drugs I had is potentially cardiotoxic, they wanted me to have an echo-cardiogram at 16 and 30 weeks during my pregnancy. This is because during pregnancy your heart works even harder than normal, and if the chemo has caused any nasty side effects, they need to know so they can deal with it.

I had my first echo and was told all was fine. I had my second echo, and was told all was fine. Until a week later when I got a phone call telling me that they had found an abnormality, and there was something showing as causing some compression to my right atrium and to see what it was in more detail, I had to have an MRI scan done.

All of a sudden, I am having more appointments booked for me. The MRI, blood tests, ultrasounds. And then I begin to panic. And I ask THE question: “Are you doing all of this because you think the cancer is back?” And they can’t answer me, because they don’t know, but yes, there is a chance it’s back—especially given that whatever it is that is compressing the atrium is in the same spot my cancer was. The fact my bloods were fine and that I was having no symptoms, didn’t do much to alleviate my fear.

My haematologist told me that my obstetrician wasn’t willing to deliver the baby before 34 weeks. I had no idea that they were even talking about delivering early. I was told that if it was the Hodgkin’s again, that I would have to have inpatient chemo and have a stem cell transplant and be in hospital for a month. Cue panic. My baby will be in special care, and I will be in the cancer ward. Someone else will be looking after and bonding with my newborn and when I come out of hospital, he won’t know who I am and I won’t be able to comfort him.

Eventually, I had my MRI scan. It took a few weeks for them to get me an appointment. It wasn’t a nice experience and I was glad when it was over. I expected to wait a week for my results.

Later that night, I got a phone call. The scan came back all clear. Suffice to say, I cried with relief. And then I felt stupid. Stupid for getting so worked up and upset over what turned out to be nothing (and I have since found out that the compression has been caused by my diaphragm sitting higher on the right hand side).

But mostly relief. And while I am glad they are taking extra special care of me, I do wish that they didn’t have to!

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/special-care/feed/0Does it Ever Really Go Away?https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/does-it-ever-really-go-away/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/does-it-ever-really-go-away/#commentsWed, 04 Jan 2012 00:12:41 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=5686In February 2010, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. In September 2010, I was declared in remission. In December 2010, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and was told I would have to have the other half of my thyroid removed. In February 2011, I had it removed, and was told that it was also malignant. Then in …

]]>In February 2010, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. In September 2010, I was declared in remission. In December 2010, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and was told I would have to have the other half of my thyroid removed. In February 2011, I had it removed, and was told that it was also malignant.

Then in August, finally some good news. I was pregnant. And we have since found out we are having another baby boy and he is due on Easter Sunday.

I am classed as a “high risk” pregnancy. To be totally honest, I thought that if anything was going to make for a complicated pregnancy, it would be because of my 6 months of chemo. I was wrong. What makes for a complicated pregnancy, is my thyroid, or lack of. I never thought that not having a thyroid would class me as a high risk pregnancy. Apparently, it does.

I was told the other day that I talk about my cancer a lot. I think that when you have had cancer, it never goes away, even when you are in remission. When even something as nice as pregnancy is made high risk because of it, you know that it was and still is a big deal. Can you ever really move on, even when you want to?

This pregnancy has seen me have to have extra growth scans, blood tests and echo cardiograms due to my medical history. Thankfully, everything so far has come back clear which is a relief. I just hope that it continues to be that way.

In the meantime, here’s hoping for a happy, healthy and cancer free 2012!

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/does-it-ever-really-go-away/feed/21Life Moves Onhttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/life-moves-on/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/life-moves-on/#respondFri, 23 Sep 2011 16:00:49 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=5253A year ago today, I went for my end of treatment PET scan, which would go on to show that I had reached remission. As I’m sure you can imagine, the relief was wonderful. After seven long months, to find out that I had the all clear was the best news we could have hoped for. Life …

]]>A year ago today, I went for my end of treatment PET scan, which would go on to show that I had reached remission. As I’m sure you can imagine, the relief was wonderful. After seven long months, to find out that I had the all clear was the best news we could have hoped for. Life could move on. We could get on and do things we wanted to do. I could carry on being a mummy to my 18 month old son.

Then of course, I found out I had thyroid cancer, and for a while, health issues came first once more, and I had to have various surgeries to get that fixed.

In April, I got the all clear from that too, albeit, two days after an early miscarriage.

However, I got on with things, even though it was hard, even though I was devastated at my loss, and so fed up that things just didn’t seem to go right for me.

Four long months later, and my son has something he’d like to tell you:

So, please forgive me for being quiet over here. It has been so hard to keep this a secret until we knew everything was OK. But, so far it all seems to be, and baby number 2 should be with us in the middle of April next year.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/life-moves-on/feed/0Invisible Scarshttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/invisible-scars/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/invisible-scars/#commentsTue, 10 May 2011 08:41:02 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=4265I have many visible scars from various diagnostic procedures over the last 18 months. I have a scar on my ribcage from my chest drain, a scar just under my arm pit, and a scar just underneath my right breast, from my Hodgkin’s biopsy. I also have scars on my arms from cannulas, and from …

]]>I have many visible scars from various diagnostic procedures over the last 18 months. I have a scar on my ribcage from my chest drain, a scar just under my arm pit, and a scar just underneath my right breast, from my Hodgkin’s biopsy. I also have scars on my arms from cannulas, and from a bite from my son, that wouldn’t have usually scarred, but because I was going through chemo, pigmentation was altered. Then I have a scar on my throat, from the thyroid surgeries.

Those are permanent reminders of what I have been through. They won’t go away. People can see them (OK, maybe not the rib and breast one so much) and will wonder what they are. The ones that are bold enough might ask. The ones that aren’t might talk about me to others later, asking them if they know what it is.

Those scars don’t bother me. It’s funny, because maybe they should. But I don’t find myself hiding my thyroid scar, by making sure I wear a polo neck, or a scarf or a necklace, because I don’t feel like I need to. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed because of what I went through. What I find difficult to cope with, are the emotional scars. The worry that every time I get a cough, I wonder if I have a chest mass again. The worry about whether I’d be classed as high risk for my next pregnancy meaning I can’t have the homebirth that I wanted when I was pregnant with my first. The worry about whether I can even get pregnant again. The worry that if I relapsed, my boy might have to grow up without his Mummy.

I woke up one morning really upset. I’d had such a realistic dream in the night. I can only ever remember having a dream that real once before, and it left me feeling really shook up for a long time. I’d relapsed, and there was nothing they could do for me. It was so realistic. Even my consultant that I see was in the dream and she was the one that had to tell me. What had actually happened, was that I hadn’t relapsed, so much as I was never in remission in the first place. The consultant had not looked at the scan properly and there was still active disease.

I know that isn’t a possibility. I saw the scan myself. The only active hotspot was my thyroid, which has now been dealt with, but to wake up with that feeling… it was horrible.

Scars don’t have to be visible to be there. Sometimes, the invisible ones are the worst.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/invisible-scars/feed/2My Childhood Cancer Experiencehttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/my-childhood-cancer-experience/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/my-childhood-cancer-experience/#commentsSun, 23 Jan 2011 23:19:46 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=3058I am often asked if I get tired of telling my story…the answer is no. Each time there is a different perspective to view it from, different lessons to learn from it, and new words to describe it. But most importantly, someone is hearing it for the first time, making me feel as though I’m …

]]>I am often asked if I get tired of telling my story…the answer is no. Each time there is a different perspective to view it from, different lessons to learn from it, and new words to describe it. But most importantly, someone is hearing it for the first time, making me feel as though I’m sharing it for the first time. Despite the multitude of times I’ve told it, I always seem to have difficulties pinpointing where to begin- I cannot remember when and how I began feeling ill. It seemed somewhere in my conscience, I knew that my incessant coughing, sickly complexion, and unimaginable fatigue was something greater than the everyday ailments my doctor diagnosed me with. It was the fall of 2007…I grimaced as another needle drew another blood sample for what I was certain would be another misdiagnosis. The initial hope of being diagnosed with something “easy to fix” morphed into desperation for simply a diagnosis. Some nights I would lie in bed, fearing that I had an illness that no one would or could find…I feared the unknown. Just tell me what it is…I don’t care…just tell me what it is.

Months later, we came one step closer to discovery after demanding tests my previous doctor deemed unnecessary. Pulling into the parking lot of my new pediatrician, I tried to ignore the climactic feeling that clouded the day. However, I could do nothing but give in to this feeling as my doctor gingerly explained the results of my CT scan. How an 11x8cm mass even fit in my chest cavity, I’m not sure…but there it sat, slowly closing off my airway and constricting my major arteries as it grew. We hear that we must be grateful because anything can happen at any moment…we should, it can, it did. That one, single second that my mind grasped the words my doctor spoke, my life changed forever. I was now not just Melinda, I was sick Melinda…dying Melinda.

Hope was restored in my heart the day I met Dr. Dan Greenfield at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara, California. His gentle manner calmed the nerves of both me and my parents even as a biopsy failed to reveal the identity of my invader. Opting for a second biopsy, I found myself back in the operating room, praying for a diagnosis as the anesthesia carried me off to sleep. It was the morning of December 18, 2007…my mom answered the phone, and God answered my prayers. I at last I knew what I faced-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Wanting me to enjoy Christmas, yet in a hurry to start my treatments, Dr. Dan scheduled a PICC line insertion, bone marrow aspiration, and my first round of chemo for December 27th. And in that day alone, I was transformed into a cancer kid. After having a severe reaction to the anesthesia, I lay unable to even open my eyes as I prayed the nurses would find an effective anti-nausea drug. Ninety-six hours later, I was slumped over in the front seat of our truck on my way home. In spite of the enormous amount of chemo and drugs in my little thirteen year old body, I recall thinking clearly, “I don’t think I can do this three more times…”

But the words of a 15 year old Hodgkin survivor I met proved to be true, “Each round of chemo gets easier.” It was now March, and with the help of two blood transfusions, my loving family, and my passion to continue dancing, I had endured 48 doses of chemo. I was now a frail, bald, anxious little thing awaiting the start of radiation treatments. I wanted to be done…now. Within a month, we had begun the daily three hour roundtrip drive to Santa Barbara and back…when the three weeks radiation was up, my mom could have driven that stretch of road with her eyes closed. May 8th 2008…I had done it. I guess I was a…a…cancer survivor…whoa.

Soon, the triumph of survivorship was overshadowed by a different feeling- helplessness. The textbook “what now?” feeling of a survivor left me depressed and searching for the “new me”. I wasn’t old Melinda, nor was I sick Melinda…I have never felt so lost in my life. Surfacing late effects from treatment exhausted me physically in addition to aiding my emotional downfall. Horrible digestive issues landed me in the ER and held responsibility in the development of an eating disorder. Having conquered the battle to find a diagnosis and the battle through treatment, a third battle ensued. Discovering that a medication was inducing a great amount of my physical side effects, I discontinued taking it, attended therapy, and at last began the climb to healing.

While slowly ascending the mountain of health, I began writing about my journey. Without an ending goal in mind, I wrote for healing, for acceptance, for purpose, and simply because my love of writing urged me to tell the intriguing story I could never have dreamt I would call my own. Initially writing for me, I slowly began to turn my attention to others. I realized that my story could comfort others, evoke gratitude for their lives, and, in turn, make them happier. Suddenly, I wanted to share it. To think that cancer could be molded into something good intrigued me. For six months, a spiral notebook and pen never left my side, that is, until I wrote the last letter of the last word of my book in August of 2009 and took a step back to comprehend the stack of notebooks before me. There it was…my story…whoa.

As the pace of school quickened and I was inundated with work, my mom began typing the 90,000 plus words that spelled out my experience. I remember being frustrated that I remained stuck at school completing mindless worksheets when I believed my life had a bigger calling. But together, my mom and I formed a joint effort that was led by this larger picture. Establishing our own publishing company, Happy Quail, in the fall of 2009, we were faced with hundreds of decisions regarding my new book. A simple yet extremely difficult question…what should it be called? I wanted a simple word filled with other words, thoughts, and feelings. I wanted that one single word to give the reader so much information, yet leave them wanting more. Grace…yes…it was perfect. When I held my baby Grace for the very first time, it was surreal. Never had I imagined while lying in that hospital bed that I’d be sitting, staring down at my own story nearly two years later.

Fast-forward another year, and my life has changed just as much. Grace won an International Book Award, and was accepted by Greenleaf Book Group, a major publisher/distributor. The second edition, Grace: A Child’s Intimate Journey Through Cancer and Recovery, was recently produced. My experience, although unbelievably difficult, has blessed both me and others. I am so thankful that I have been given something to share in this world…something to bring to the table of life. This path has led me to become an advocate for childhood cancer and has made me passionate about easing the pain of others touched by cancer. I am dedicated to raising awareness that will lead to funding, new discoveries, and an ultimate cure. Speaking, as well as book signings, help me to spread the word, share my story, and raise funds for various cancer organizations. In all, the blessings my cancer experience has brought me have far exceeded the suffering. To be able touch another with what you have been given, whether good or bad, is to know what life is…I am humbled and grateful.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/my-childhood-cancer-experience/feed/2Starting a New Fighthttps://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/starting-a-new-fight/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/starting-a-new-fight/#commentsMon, 03 Jan 2011 21:52:03 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=2792I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned here before that I had to have thyroid surgery recently? When I was having my PET scans for my Hodgkin’s, they found a hot spot on my thyroid which didn’t change with treatment. I was referred to ENT and after a biopsy came back inconclusive, they decided to operate. The operation included them removing …

]]>I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned here before that I had to have thyroid surgery recently? When I was having my PET scans for my Hodgkin’s, they found a hot spot on my thyroid which didn’t change with treatment. I was referred to ENT and after a biopsy came back inconclusive, they decided to operate.

The operation included them removing half of my thyroid gland, and a lovely 3 inch scar on my neck (roughly where a man’s Adam’s apple is). Six weeks after my operation, I got the results.

I had the obligatory chat on the way to the consultation room: “How are you today, Roz?” “OK, I think, I’m hoping YOU can tell ME.”

We walked into the room and there was my surgeon, his registrar, another professor, a nurse, and a nurse counselor. When there are that many people in the room, it’s never good news.

Doc: “We’ve only had your results back today”

Me: “Right. And…”

Doc: “It’s positive”

Me: “Meaning?”

Doc: “It’s malignant”

Me: “S**t”

I was only in the consultation room for about two minutes before I was ushered off into a side room with my “key worker”. He’s the person I go to with any worries, questions or concerns. I was told that the type of cancer is “Well differentiated papillary thyroid cancer” which is apparently the best one to have and also the most common one.

They aren’t worried about it, but I wonder how many of the people in that room had to fight one cancer, let alone two.

In comparison to what I’ve already been through, this will be fairly easy. I have started thyroid hormone replacement tablets (which I keep forgetting to take!). I will need another operation to remove the other half of my thyroid gland, and am on the waiting list for this, it will most likely be towards the end of January, beginning of February, and then I will probably need radioactive iodine treatment.

My key worker told me that if I hadn’t have had my scan to stage my Hodgkin’s, it may have been another 10 or 20 years before I noticed a lump because it’s so slow growing, and even then the prognosis would still be good.

So, who’d have thunk it? Two completely different and unrelated types of cancer before the age of 30. I suppose, I could think myself lucky to have had two cancers with good prognosis, but honestly, I’d have rather had none at all thanks.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/starting-a-new-fight/feed/7One Year Later…https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/one-year-later/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/one-year-later/#respondThu, 02 Dec 2010 20:23:08 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=2468A year ago, I went for my chest x-ray, after going to see my GP the previous day. That chest x-ray was the thing I needed to start the ball rolling to get my final diagnosis. 48 hours after the x-ray (Thursday), I was to get a call telling me I needed a CT scan the next …

]]>A year ago, I went for my chest x-ray, after going to see my GP the previous day. That chest x-ray was the thing I needed to start the ball rolling to get my final diagnosis. 48 hours after the x-ray (Thursday), I was to get a call telling me I needed a CT scan the next day (Friday). I didn’t sleep from then until I saw the chest consultant (Tuesday).

I was convinced I was going to walk into that room to be told they suspected Hodgkin’s, but now, they suspected a cyst. If only. The surgeon who was going to be removing the “cyst” suspected it could be lymphoma because of the pain I was having whenever I had the tiniest bit of alcohol. The reason I saw him? Because I was bricking it about the operation and wanted to see him to see if I could cancel it. He wouldn’t let me.

That operation, or at least the thought of it, was the scariest thing I ever had to go through. I spent so much time reading up on it, I’d convinced myself I was going to die. I was asking my husband to make sure he’d tell my 8 month old son about me should I not make it.

All of that seems like I lifetime ago now, and it all started with that chest x-ray. It took long enough to get it, but I am to this day so grateful to the GP that referred me for it. I can hand on my heart say that she saved my life.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/one-year-later/feed/0It’s Not Fair!https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/its-not-fair/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/its-not-fair/#commentsFri, 12 Nov 2010 01:04:37 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=1970Today, I had quite a big “It’s not fair” moment. Throughout my illness and my treatment, I’ve managed to avoid most of these, but not today. What, exactly tipped me over the edge, I don’t know. I have heard of people coping fine throughout their treatment, and then afterwards reflecting back and realizing just what …

]]>Today, I had quite a big “It’s not fair” moment. Throughout my illness and my treatment, I’ve managed to avoid most of these, but not today. What, exactly tipped me over the edge, I don’t know.

I have heard of people coping fine throughout their treatment, and then afterwards reflecting back and realizing just what it is they’ve been through. Maybe that’s true of me.

I am a member of an online lymphoma forum. In this week alone, I’ve read about two (young) men who lost their battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. A guy called Brian, who was 37, and left his wife and two children, and a guy called Mike who was 33. I’ve never met any of the people on this forum, and I probably never will, but you start to feel a sense of community with those that have been through, or that are going through what you have.

My upset today was how my life has had to go on hold while I have fought and am recovering from this thing. And even now that part is over, I’m waiting for test results on my thyroid, so I’m still in limbo. I am SO ready for this part of my life to be over, so I can move on to some nice things. Roll on 2011 is what I say.

Part of the upset was also about the lives that have recently been lost to this disease. Everyone refers to Hodgkin’s as the good cancer. But how can it be? It still takes lives. For me, I never worried that I wouldn’t get through treatment (the exception being when I was in hospital and in intensive care for pneumonia) or that I wouldn’t fight it, I always just assumed I would. Brian and Mike probably thought the same too and I can’t imagine what their families are going through right now.

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/its-not-fair/feed/2Remember the Time…https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/remember-the-time/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/remember-the-time/#respondSat, 23 Oct 2010 20:11:14 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=1735It’s been 2 months since I finished chemo, and it’s beginning to seem like a distant memory. It’s strange looking back and remembering that every 2 weeks I had to go for chemo, and that every week I’d have a blood test. And what about the fact that I used to have to give myself an injection …

]]>It’s been 2 months since I finished chemo, and it’s beginning to seem like a distant memory.

It’s strange looking back and remembering that every 2 weeks I had to go for chemo, and that every week I’d have a blood test. And what about the fact that I used to have to give myself an injection every 2 weeks?

It all seems like a different world.

I never felt like I had cancer. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s to do with the fact that I was never ill as I thought I would be after chemo. I expected to have to take to my bed for days on end, but it was only 48 hours after treatment that I would have my really bad day. The achy bones was my worst thing. I felt like an old woman. All of my bones, even my knuckles would ache, it was like no pain I had ever experienced. I would have rather given birth again!

So, now it’s all over, things have started to get back to normal, whatever “normal” is. It’s been so long since life was normal. I say that, but in 2 weeks time I’m having an operation on my thyroid. I’m trying to get out and about a bit more now. I want to do as much stuff with my little boy as possible now, before I think about going back to work.

Hubby and I just had a lovely holiday in Cyprus, just the 2 of us. We left our son with my in-laws for the week. I missed him loads, but it was nice to have a week just to relax and not worry about anything.

I guess the point of this post is for people going through treatment, when it seems the end is so far away, actually, there is an end to it, and there’s lots of good things to look forward to!

]]>https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/remember-the-time/feed/0Lymphoma? What’s That?https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/lymphoma-whats-that/
https://www.fightlikeagirlclub.com/lymphoma-whats-that/#commentsTue, 05 Oct 2010 16:56:34 +0000http://www.thefightlikeagirlclub.com/?p=1334Recently, I had the pleasure of helping out the Lymphoma Association at some Fresher Fairs. They were there to raise awareness of lymphoma as part of their PITS campaign. I don’t know what the stats are in the USA, but here in the UK, lymphoma is the most common cancer in the under 30’s and …

]]>Recently, I had the pleasure of helping out the Lymphoma Association at some Fresher Fairs. They were there to raise awareness of lymphoma as part of their PITS campaign. I don’t know what the stats are in the USA, but here in the UK, lymphoma is the most common cancer in the under 30’s and the sixth most common cancer fullstop, yet we know so little about it.

Whilst, I by no means am a medical professional, I have, unfortunately, come to know a fair amount about Hodgkin’s Lymphoma over the last year.

In a nutshell, lymphoma is a cancer of the lymphatic cells in the immune system. It is classed as a blood cancer and is spilt into two types. Hodgkin’s and non-Hodgkin’s. I don’t know much about the latter, but there are a lot of different types.

There isn’t a cause of Hodgkin’s, there isn’t anything that you could have done differently, or not done to ensure you don’t get it. Unfortunately, it’s just one of those things. There are certain “risk factors” though. You are more likely to get “The Hodge” if you are male, aged between 15-40, or over 55, if there is a family history, or if you have a weakened immune system due to HIV. Not that any of that actually means anything, because I had none of them, and I still got it.

I’ve always been very open throughout my treatment, I’ve written blogs, left facebook statuses etc, talked to my friends etc. I haven’t done this to gain sympathy (although it’s always nice to have some!) but to raise awareness.

So to all of you going through this, or if you are here because you know someone who is going through it, don’t hide away. Talk about it, don’t be scared.